


I Will Never Let You Go

by TheElephant



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheElephant/pseuds/TheElephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir dreams of haunting past, and Agron offers comfort to one he will forever hold to heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Never Let You Go

Tiberius walked into the guest chamber of Dominus’ villa, dressed in simple white cloth around his waist, and ever-present collar. There stood a man at the table, drinking a cup of wine, specially ordered for him by Dominus. When the slave entered, the man turned, dressed in the finest robes coin could buy, and looked at him for a long while. He had dull grey eyes, curled, balding hair, and swollen belly. He finished drink, staring at the slave the whole time, before replacing it on the table, and approaching. Tiberius knew better than to flinch, or move away, and so remained still in face of approaching storm, eyes downcast, hands behind back, awaiting order. The man was drunk, Tiberius could tell, he’d seen it so many times before, and so prepared himself the best he could. 

“Mmmm.” The Roman was now face to face with him, breath heavy with scent of wine. He took his chin between thumb and forefinger, roughly turning head side to side, inspecting the goods. “Yes, you will do.” He untucked the slave’s cloth, exposing him to open air. Tiberius made no reaction, remaining still and obedient. The Roman looked him up and down, before reaching out a hand to grasp his cock, in vice-like grip. Tiberius still made no sound - as he was trained not to - but could not stop his eyes welling with tears. The Roman laughed, releasing grip - allowing Tiberius to breathe again. 

“Kneel and prepare to suck cock.” The man lifted his robe, ready for Tiberius to place his head under, and begin pleasure. Once inside cocoon of fabric and the man’s groin, Tiberius took breath before taking Roman master’s cock in mouth, and giving pleasure as he knew so well how. 

When the Roman neared climax, Tiberius prepared to swallow as he knew that would give full satisfaction, but at last moment, head was grabbed from behind, and forced forwards, until cock filled throat. He had not been prepared for this. Dominus had never treated him such, so when seed spilled down throat, Tiberius choked and gagged, trying to pull away by pushing hands against the man’s hips and thighs. Then, when need to swallow was too great, teeth involuntarily clammed down upon the man’s cock, drawing blood. Slave was kneed in the face, and fell onto his back, choking, gulping in air. Roman screamed and shouted, clutching cock in fist.

“Fucking little Syrian cunt!” Tiberius tried to gather his thoughts, and stand up.

“Apologies master. Should I fetch Dominus?” When he was on his feet, he felt a sharp slap across his face, sending him sprawling onto the floor. He tried to lift himself up, but when on hands and knees, hand grabbed his hair. 

“I don’t want your fucking Dominus, but I will have fucking payment for injury, whore!” Tiberius wiped trembling hand across face, and it came away stained with blood. 

“Please master.” Tiberius was begging. He never begged, but this time he did. 

“Shut mouth and take cock, fucking shit.” The Roman removed hand, and took off his robes. Careful of fresh wound, he wanked himself to hardness, then plunged himself into the slave boy’s entrance - all the time, gripping his hair.

Sharp force was felt, breaching his tightness, causing him to scream. Head was wrenched back by fistful of hair, and other clamped over mouth to cease noise. As thrusts got faster, Tiberius’ head was pushed lower and lower, until touching floor. When the man came close to another climax, with each thrust he slammed the slave’s face into the floor. When he pulled out, too fast, he drew out a whine of pain from Tiberius. His head was twisted round, and he received another slap across face for his noise of displeasure, sending him flying onto the floor again. The man returned to table, and picked up fruit knife, and turned back to slave lying on floor.

Tiberius, still dazed after beating of head upon floor, glanced up to see Roman standing astride him, knife clutched in hand, and evil grin upon face. 

“Now I will mark you as you have marked me, you fucking cunt.” Tiberius attempted to back away, but Roman stamped foot upon the slave’s thigh, holding him in place. “You will stay still, or I will do worse than cut you.” 

Tiberius continued to struggle, when he saw knife come down to his groin. “Still I said.” When the slave did not obey command, the Roman dropped knife in favour of holding his arms down, and kneeling on his thighs. When he would not submit, the man got up and lifted him by the wrists, dragging him across the floor. The slave’s leg caught the knife, giving him a long gash along side of his thigh. Screaming, he was dragged to the bed, and wrists tied together with cloth around it’s leg. Roman fetched knife, and resumed position kneeling on Tiberius’ thighs. Tiberius struggled harder now arms were bound, so much so that Roman was toppled from his perch, hitting head on nearby table, dropping knife. He landed on his side, clutching new wound; Tiberius pushing himself as far away as he could, still tethered to the bed. The Roman rose to his feet, swaying. He spat on Tiberius, then brought foot across his face, then into his stomach. 

Coughing and choking from new injuries, Tiberius, looked back up - through blurry eyes, a film of red, and black strands, across them - to the Roman, who came down upon the slave again, gripping him by the neck, attempting to choke all life from him. The hard leather dug into his throat, Tiberius was sure he would die, then grip was relaxed slightly. The knife picked up, glint in the Roman’s eye, equal to that of animal pressed to corner, and brought down making quick gashes across the slave’s cock. Tiberius howled in pain, kicking and screaming, his legs and arms now free.

Eyes opened and he found himself still screaming, held in tight embrace by strong, loving arms.

“Nasir. Nasir! Shhh.” Agron did not let go until Nasir ceased his screams, which descended into sobs; holding his face against chest in hope that soft heartbeat would calm his little man. Nasir’s body wracking with cries, strong arms still held him, but looser now, so a gentle hand could come up and stroke away hair stuck to face with sweat. 

“Sh. You are safe now. What memories disturb sleep this night?” Agron looked into Nasir’s eyes, relaxing his hold more, so the Syrian could turn and look up at him. Gathering his wits, and taking deep breaths, Nasir replied,

“You recall scars upon cock and thigh?” Nasir looked into beautiful, deep, green eyes, awaiting answer.

“Recall them? I observe them every night, and see them as evidence that you once stood a slave.”

“It was night I received such brands, forever reminding me that I am spoiled.” Nasir cast his eyes down, not wanting to look into eyes of one who must look upon him with shame. Hand came to chin, and lifted it to look into them again. A soft, gentle, devoted kiss graced lips, before pulling away.

“They do not. They are reminder that you shall never stand a slave again, for you shall always be in my arms, and I will never let you go.”


End file.
